Wake Up
by spiderwebbed
Summary: Juliette Bonnefois wakes up one morning in the arms of the love of her life. Unfortunately, he doesn't believe her. Flirtation ensues. A Nyotalia Tale: fem!France and male!Gabon, an OC of mine. (Gabon is an African Nation, pop. 1.5 mil, and rather rich. Known for the hard-working ideals of its' people and the unity amongst tribes. French is the official language.)


The female representative of France, Juliette Bonnefois, was not a woman of absolutes— but if there was one thing that she infinitely believed, it was this: that there was nothing better than waking up to the feeling of a man's deliciously solid form beneath her own. The fact that she was enjoying such a forbidden pleasure only made her illogically optimistic. She woke up and snuggled into his warmth, then took a moment to appreciate his body, sliding her fingers down the muscular chest. _Mhm._ The simple silhouette of warm, smooth skin. _Ah, oui. _There was literally nothing better on this earth.

"Juliette." His deep, rolling voice rumbled like thunder within. She could feel every inch of that vibration as her head lay on the expanse of his broad chest. She opened her eyes to the deep, inviting color of ebony and settled in closer to him. He repeated her name. "Juliette." She lifted her head and looked straight into his eyes, anticipating what he was going to say with dread.

"_Oui_, Omar?"

His voice was low and authoritative, with infinite patience behind it. Strong, callused fingers brushed wispy blonde hair behind her ears delicately.

"I need to get ready. I have much work to do, and little time to do it." He looked down at her seriously, but she frowned and laid her head back to his chest.

"_Non_. Stay 'ere with me for once…" She trailed off, the words muffled in his warm chest. Her fingers trailed down his broad chest. "I don't want you to go…"

"Juliette…" For a moment, he seemed resigned to lie with her, rubbing the smooth skin of her arm with one hand while resting the other on the small dip of her waist. Satisfied that she'd won, Juliette curled up against him, her toes slipping alongside his calves. It was then that Omar sat up decidedly, reaching for his glasses. "No," he sighed, adjusting them to his nose. "I cannot stay. I have papers to fill out, documents to file away, the president's speech is yet undone and-" Juliette opened her eyes again, looking at him pleadingly.

"Omar…" She slid upwards and adjusted herself into his lap. "You're always working, _chouchou_. It's not fair." She slipped his glasses off his face and placed them onto her own. "Why don't you stay? …I'm not saying every time." She spoke quickly at the expression on his face. "Just this once!" She pleaded earnestly. "I 'aven't spent more than evening with you in a forever … and to tell you the truth…" She lowered her voice. "I've missed you." She looked away from him, curling her toes to grip the sheets. Her silky disheveled hair brushed against his shoulder. He pushed her hair from her face again patiently, revealing cheeks that were rosy with embarrassment. Omar sighed long-sufferingly, then brought her into his chest, cradling her closely. After a moment, Omar tilted her away.

"You know I don't like it when you try to use lines on me, Juliette."

A rough thumb stroked her cheek.

She pushed out her lips in a sulking expression.

"I'm not using a line! I am being serious." He let go of her in annoyance, giving her space to sit back on her heels, still sitting with a leg on each side of him. "Really, Omar, you make me sound so 'eartless." She leaned forward and tapped him on the mouth. "I really do want to spend time with you. Don't be so distrusting." He looked at her flatly, causing her to scramble for words. "…_Euh_… Okay, I know that you 'ave reason, I admit, _mais_… _mais_…"

"_Mais rien_." He lifted a smooth leg from over his own and moved towards the edge of the bed. "I have business to attend to and I don't enjoy playing games with you each time you spend a night in Gabon." He removed his glasses from her face and put them back on his own. "I complied to lending you my home, I complied with lending you my bed, but I will not allow myself to be pulled into this game you like to play with men, Juliette." He stood briskly and strode out into the master bedroom determinately. As he shut the door behind himself, he hesitated for a brief moment- then moved towards the bath for his morning duties.

Juliette sagged into the sheets, holding a pillow to her chest as the comforting scent of _Omar de Gabon_ surrounded her.

"I've told you before… It's not a love game," she mumbled into the pillow. She sighed and rested her chin on top. "If it was, I wouldn't be so good at losing." She flopped back onto the bed, then curled up, looking listlessly at the ceiling. " 'Ow 'orrible," she murmured quietly to the ceiling. "Lie a thousand times and the world will believe you. Tell one little truth and _soudainement, _you're Pinocchio." The door to the bathroom of the master bedroom opened suddenly, surprising her. Juliette sat up quickly, then relaxed upon seeing Omar again. He approached her side of the bed, an oddly determined expression on his face. Without hesitating, he pulled her stark against him with a steady but gentle hand pressed to her back. Outwardly, he showed no emotion other than the calm that he radiated, but inwardly he took pleasure in the surprised expression on her face. She tittered at him.

"Omar? _Quoi?_ Is there… something wrong?" He brushed hair out of her face silently, his expression still serious. She took another stab in the dark. "I… I'm not playing a game, if that's what you're trying to figure out." He chuckled at that, then spoke, his voice low with amusement.

"I know now. I think you'd be better player too." He leaned forward and kissed her tenderly. There was a quiet passion beneath it, a strength that captivated her and kept her lips, moving with his rhythmically. After a passionate moment- or four- she tilted her head back.

"Does this mean you're going to stay?"

He chuckled again, then kissed her again. His strong arms wrapped around her made her feel vulnerable and strong, and she threw herself into his lips to the point of almost forgetting what she'd asked- until he tilted his mouth away and whispered in her ear with that deep, delicious voice…

"_Non_."

_Ah, well._ She continued to kiss him earnestly, resigned to a single morning of love. This was still, at least, a good day. A_very _good day.


End file.
